


Good with my Hands

by maccabird_23



Series: Fuck the Ten-year Plan [5]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dubious Consent, Edited Version, Hockey players smoking weed in their summer cabins, Look mom, M/M, Patrick is the bad-boy American, Recreational Drug Use, Shocked, Sid is the good Canadian boy, Sorry to anyone who read the one with errors, Thanks for the tough love guys!, corrections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maccabird_23/pseuds/maccabird_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sid should probably do something. He should probably take Patrick’s hand off his thigh, where it was rubbing with little finesse. He should probably throw Patrick into one of his extra beds. Shut the door from the other side - the safe side. Then he should pile all his hockey equipment in front of the door because the Sidney Crosby who played for the Pittsburg Penguins didn’t make any stupid, rash decisions.  But the eighteen year-old boy with enough money to own a cabin, expensive weed, and enough hard liquor to fill a room was horny and dumb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good with my Hands

Sid wasn’t a product or a mini, media mogul. But sometimes he couldn’t help but feel like one. Pat Brisson, and the Pens PR had groomed him in the arts of the media minefields. They spent hours analyzing every interview answer like it was game day tape. Any wrong move or sound bite could wind up on the wrong end of a beat writer’s article.

But it was only his first year in the NHL. And after he gave his last mea cupla interview for the season, thirty-five points out of a playoff spot, he was on his own time. He took comfort in finally being back home in Nova Scotia, settling into his summer cabin.

He smiled into the quiet, knowing that soon every room would be filled with footsteps. Once Taylor’s last tournament was played, and the same with Jack. Maybe Brisson was right, and this would be the last summer he would ever have the freedom to be just another eighteen year-old kid, but he was going to make it worth every moment.

The summer passed mostly uneventful. It was a blur of catching fish, eating too much pizza, and the rare hot-boxing. To Sid’s surprise, it was amazingly easy to fill a cabin with that sticky, sweat smoke. The nights he had his closest friends around him, making him break out in uncontrollable giggle fits, were the best days.

Today was one of those days. It was Draft Day, and the announcer was analyzing something about Jonathan Toews’ back-checking skills. It was a cinch. Sid had a tenner on Johnny being picked first overall.

He looked down at his shirt, still unsure if Jack’s gag gift was really the best idea for today’s attire. But he took another pull of his beer, knowing that after a few more of those almost anything would seem like a good idea. A couple more shots of tequila, and maybe he’d even let Ryan talk him into skinny-dipping.

Three jager bombs in, Sid was starting a fresh bowl, carefully watching the slow burn of embers as he took a deep hit. That’s when he felt the quick dip of the couch. Someone sat beside him, pressing sticky skin firmly to his side. He didn’t take much notice until there was a wet breath tickling at his ear.

 

“You gonna hog that all up?”

 

Sid turned to his peripheral, snorting as he realized who was clinging to him like a lazy sloth. Blue eyes, blond curls, and bow lips. Sergei had brought Patrick Kane. Something about showing the kid a good Canadian summer before they started camp with the London Knights.

The considerate, Canadian boy in him would never deny a fellow hockey player a fresh bowl. He adjusted his shoulders, turning his upper-body towards the slight blond. Kane was unfazed, never really moving but just molding himself into Sid’s new position. It brought their faces closer than Sid had calculated. He swallowed unconsciously, his eyes lingering on the mole nestled in the curve of Kane’s left dimple.

Kane took the moment of indecision, and untangled the warm, jade pipe out of Sid’s fingers. He lit up, forming his lips to the light green tip and sucking. After a beat he eased off, his mouth relaxing as he swallowed smoke.

Sid couldn’t remember if Serge told him whether the London Knights had drafted Kane in 2004 or 2006. He didn’t know why the little detail was bothering him, but at the moment it seemed pertinent.

 

“You play on the Knights with Serge, right?”

 

Kane gave him a lazy smile, left dimple peaking out at Sid. His blue eyes closed in a frame of blond lashes. “I’m going to. In the fall.”

“But you’re draft eligible?” The part of Sid’s brain that knew nothing but hockey filled in, ‘Eighteen before September fifteenth.’

Kane moved closer, their noses nearly touching. Sid decided that at this point it was okay to call him Patrick. Pat smelled like wine coolers and weed. His eyes turning wet blue from all the smoke.

“I’ll be eligible next year but…” Patrick paused, fitting his fingers into the curve of Sid’s upper thigh, “I think the real answer to your question is seventeen.”

Sid should probably do something. He should probably take Patrick’s hand off his thigh, where it was rubbing with little finesse. He should probably throw Patrick into one of his extra beds. Shut the door from the other side - the safe side. Then he should pile all his hockey equipment in front of the door because the Sidney Crosby who played for the Pittsburg Penguins didn’t make any stupid, rash decisions. But the eighteen year-old boy with enough money to own a cabin, expensive weed, and enough hard liquor to fill a room was horny and dumb.

“Right when I saw you spread out on this couch I knew I wanted to find out if those words on your shirt were true or if it was just false advertisement.”  
Sid looked down, forgetting what shirt he had on, forgetting why he even had a shirt on. He felt his cheeks heating the moment he read the upside down lettering.

“I really want you to show me if your ’Good with your hands. On and off the ice.’” Patrick didn’t waste time, and the soft press of wet lips against his was almost a surprise.

The new sensation was enough to send a shock to his system, firing up the synapses in his brain. He broke the contact, and Patrick whimpered at the loss. Sid settled a cool palm at the back of Pat’s balmy neck, bringing his face against his chest. Letting Patrick know that he was still interested.

Sid surveyed the room, realizing that almost everyone must have left, and everyone else was in different states of sleep. He took the opportunity for what it was, and pulled Kane to his feet by the scruff of his neck. Patrick didn’t miss a beat.

 

“Your room?”

 

Sid nodded, taking Patrick by the hand, and leading him down the furthest hallway. The cabin was pitch black, and the light just behind his bedroom door was an oasis. Grabbing Patrick by his hips, he pressed him against the hard, wooden door. He was taller – more muscular than he expected but the fluorescent light framing Patrick like some kind of debauched cherub.     

 

The blonde made the first move, pulling Sid in by his belt, and rearing up to meet his lips in a crushing kiss. It wasn’t a movie reel kiss, but filthy as Patrick’s tongue slipped into his mouth, trying to taste what he had for breakfast.

Patrick kept his hands in the game, unzipping Sid, and sliding his fingers under pants and boxers. It had been far too long since someone besides Sid had touched his dick. The dry rub sent electricity up his spine, but it wasn’t enough. Sid needed more.

Groping at the back of Patrick’s thighs he lifted the slighter boy, thrusting his groin. His lower stomach collided in harsh slaps at Pat’s pelvis. Patrick was stronger than he looked, easily hooking both legs around the swell of Sid’s ass, and holding tight to the back of his neck. His other hand didn’t quit, and was jerking Sid out of his boxers.

Sid charged forward, knocking the door open. He could feel the happy burn in his thighs, as he strained to get them both to the bed in less than a minute. He unceremoniously threw him on the bed. Patrick bounced as he sprawled on the bed - laughing as he looked up at Sid.

For his part, Sid knew how silly he looked. Fully clothed with his dick poking out - giving Patrick a royal salute. But he could fix that. He yanked the stupid shirt that got him into this mess over his head, and started on his pants. He never broke eye contact with the puckish blonde. Pat lounged on his bed, spread out for the taking, and just watching Sid.

“This isn’t a striptease, Patrick. Take off your clothes before I rip them off.” Right when the words left his mouth, he knew they were the wrong choice.

Patrick’s eyes glimmered with defiance, as he slipped his hand under the elastic of his boxers. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Sidney.”

That was the cue Sid needed. And once his pants and underwear were just a distant memory on the floor he bull rushed the bed. His knees pressed firmly to either side of Patrick’s hips, as he took hold of the other boy’s blue collared shirt. He yanked it forward with a closed fist, pulling Patrick up in a bow-tight angle. It was the perfect position to bite at the exposed, pale neck.

Sid felt the heavy cotton rip under his fingers, as he tasted salt and sweat. It filled his sense deliciously, and Sid licked at the bruised skin to get a better taste. Patrick’s fingers joined his, as they worked to rip the offending item off his chest.

Sid took a moment to memorize the bare flash laid out before him. Nothing about Pat’s chest was boyish. With his pink nipples, freckled shoulders, hard stomach, and a downy, blond trail disappearing into white khakis.

“If you like what you see on the top, your gonna love what’s hidden below these pants.” Patrick wiggled his hips; butt lifting off the bed. Granting Sid access.

Keeping to his promise, Sid tore at both pants and underwear. He felt the boxers shred under his fingers, and he threw the ruined clothes across the room, uncaring. Patrick hadn’t been lying. He definitely loved what he saw. He slowly stroked himself, fingers tightening at the base to keep himself under control.

Nestled in a bush of dark, blond curls was Patrick’s thick, red cock. He was hard - tip leaking pre-come down his veiny shaft. The curve between thigh and pelvis was littered with freckles, but everything else was muscle covered by alabaster. But he needed to see more, everything.

 

“I’m gonna eat you out now.”

 

Patrick let out a disbelieving laugh, pressing his feet flat against the bed, and lifting his ass for Sid’s access.

 

“Go for it.”

 

Sid ducked between Patrick’s thighs, fitting the back of his knees against his own shoulders. He was now up close and personal with Patrick’s muscled ass. Taking both hands, and lifting Patrick further off the bed, Sid pried the globes apart. The pink, ring of muscles were tight, and under the pressure of his thumb didn’t seem to have any give. He rubbed lazy circles, begging for entry.

He brought his mouth down, cheek resting against thigh, as he pressed a flat tongue against the pink furl. Working his mouth, and digit against Patrick’s muscle in wet, slopping kisses. He finally felt heat envelop the tip of his tongue and thumb.

Patrick let out beautiful moans, mewling helplessly, and pressing his knees to either side of Sid’s ears. There was something powerful about taking Pat apart from the inside out. Feeling every muscle tighten around him, as Patrick’s pleasure echoed against the walls.

Once his mouth and Patrick’s ass were good and wet, he lifted up to meet wide, blown eyes. Sid had to tighten his hand around the base of his dick, to keep himself from coming. He stroked Pat’s cock with his other hand, earning him a flow of nonsensical words out of a bruised, red mouth.

 

“How do you want to take my cock?”

 

Patrick grunted, stopping Sid’s slow stroke of his cock with his own hand. “On my knees like a bitch. I want you to fuck me like a bitch in heat.”

Sid groaned, strangling his own cock, begging it to wait. He didn’t waste any time, grasping at Pat’s knees, and flipping him in one fluid movement. Patrick fell to his knees, face and shoulders flat against the bed, as his ass waved invitingly in Sid’s face.

Sid slid across the bed to get at the lube and condoms he kept in his nightstand. He dropped both at the side of Patrick’s face, letting him know what was coming next.

 

“I’m gonna open you wide and sloppy before I fuck you.”

 

Pat let out another groan, and Sid took that as permission to start slicking up his fingers. Patrick was still wet from the rimming so Sid skipped the first finger, and thrust two digits knuckle deep.

 

“Fucking thick fingers. Fuck me harder.”

 

Sid sea-sawed his fingers, going slow before speeding up. The rhythm kept Pat on edge, and vocal as ever. He spread his fingers wide in the tight heat. Searching for just the right spot.

 

“Ugh, fuck! Do that again. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

 

Sid smiled, pressing his face against the soft flesh of Patrick’s ass. He added a third finger. He didn’t think he could stop if he tried. He was too far gone, drunk on Pat’s every gyrate and groan. He was three fingers deep, and knew he wasn’t gonna last long once he got his dick in there. Pat seemed to be just as close.

 

“Enough! Just fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…”

 

It was that echoing chant that drove Sid’s movements. He stretched the condom around his throbbing cock, and slicked himself up. Holding Patrick open with one hand, he circled the tip of his dick against Pat’s rim, asking for entry. He pressed himself flat across Pat’s back, letting the blonde take some of his weight, while he bit at his ear.

 

“You ready?”

 

“Ready.” Pat whispered, meeting Sid’s lips with his own, in a rough kiss.

Sid thrust, pushing in with one slow, burning slide. And if Sid thought that his fingers were a tight fit, his cock was being throttled. He worked a slow rhythm, a slick slide in and out of Patrick’s tight body. He licked down his back, tasting the sweat he had worked out of Patrick. In that moment Sid thought he could eat him whole.

He straightened his back, taking a tight hold of Patrick’s hips as he built a brutal rhythm. Pat met his thrust, fucking himself back on Sid’s cock with his hips. The sound of slapping flesh joined the moans that filled the room.

 

“Fucking finishes me off, Sid. Not gonna last.”

 

Sid could feel that they were both on edge. Sweet slicking their bodies as they moved against each other. Reaching around Pat’s hip he took hold at the root of his cock, before sliding up, and down. He stroked once, twice, three more times - fingering at Pat’s sensitive tip. That’s all he needed. Patrick let out a choked up grunt, spilling across the bed and Sid’s hand.

 

“Fucking Christ.”

 

Sid let out a long moan. Feeling Patrick strangle at him from the inside, punching an orgasm out of him. Sid would have passed out then and there. Collapsed right on top of the smaller boy, but he had enough sense to finish properly.

Pulling out, he dumped the used condom in the trash before finding Pat’s ruined shirt. He gently wiped at the back of Pat’s thighs, running the cloth along his ass, and cock. Throwing the shirt in the trash once he was happy with the job he did.

Sid wrestled Pat to the bed, until his chest was pressed tight against the blonde’s back. Patrick turned his head, eyes sleepy and mouth slack. They shared a final kiss before they drifted off.

Sid woke with a pounding headache and a mouth full of cotton - just after noon. Everything ached and he was sure he’d slept on the wept spot. He would’ve been more than happy to drift back to sleep but then he remembered Patrick. He remembered having very drunken sex with Patrick Kane. Having semi-illegal sex with a non-draft eligible, almost Midget League - Patrick Kane.

Who wasn’t in bed with him anymore. Sid decided that he would have a mental breakdown after he found the blonde. It wasn’t difficult. The younger boy was splayed out on his couch, eating a bowl of cereal in nothing but Sid’s shirt from last night. A repeat of the draft was playing on his wide screen. He muted it – falling next to Patrick.

 

“Hangover?”

 

“Hangover.”

 

Patrick nestled his head across Sid’s chest, either trying to comfort himself or Sid. It worked, so he didn’t complain. He ran his hand through Pat’s frizzy curls with one hand. The other hand stole Pat’s spoon to scoop cereal into his mouth. The silence was nice but disconcerting. Sid knew that this moment didn’t really belong to him. Not for much longer and definitely not once the season started.

 

“I usually don’t do one night stands. Usually, I’m more careful.”

 

“Its okay. It was a first for me, too.”

 

Sid waited a beat - taking a deep breath. He must have misunderstood.

 

“First what?”

 

“Having sex.”

 

He stared at the side of Patrick’s head. The blonde’s steady breathing the only thing keeping Sid calm. He took in the new information – searching for the right words for how extremely fucked up that was.

 

“I shouldn’t have been your first. It shouldn’t have been like that.”

 

“It was probably gonna be some hockey player. Might as well go big or go home.”

 

Sid let out a laugh. Pat was probably going to make him lose his mind but it was a relief that they could both be honest.

 

“You know it can’t happen again.”

 

“Yep! You’re Sidney Crosby and I’m gonna be the number one draft pick in 2007. It would be a scandal!”

 

Sid rolled his eyes. Letting Patrick’s sing-sung of sarcasm fill his ears like music.

 

“You’re pretty confident. Aren’t you?”

 

“As confident as I was when I bet that Johnny Toews was gonna go first overall.”

 

“Hope it didn’t cost you too much.”

 

“It was worth it. Johnny’s gonna light it up with the Blackhawks. I can feel it.”

 

Sid let his head rest on top of Pat’s. Smelling the sleep that lingered on his hair. The kid was definitely something special and he knew it would be a bit harder to let him go at the end of the day.

 

“I wish I could keep you.”

 

“I wish I could keep your shirt.”

 

“Take it. Looks better on you anyway.”


End file.
